


Let it go.

by litowrip



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medical Kink, Non-Consensual Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 21:43:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17816039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/litowrip/pseuds/litowrip
Summary: Mycroft is sick and miserable. And acting up.





	Let it go.

**Author's Note:**

> No idea what this is. Wanted to make a simple spank-fic which turned into emotional porn. I like emotional porn. Can be seen as AU, because no relationship in the real world would benefit from non-consensual spanking. In the real world, that would just be sexual assault. But I am a spankophile. So in this world it is good thing for all. Not betaread and probably full of mistakes.

I know it's uncomfortable but it will only be for a little while and I've seen a bare bottom before."

John sighed. A sick, cranky Mycroft Holmes was quite the handful. He had been ill for the better part of a week and though they all bent over backwards to spoil him and care for him, his attitude had only worsened and now he made a fuss about absolutely everything. If Mycroft had been well ,he would have gotten a couple of good spankings, for his surly attitude and disrespectful behaviour, but neither John, Greg nor Sherlock wanted to punish him while he was ill. Well, Sherlock never actively punished his brother but he was recruited to hold him down when he was being particularly bratty and needed to be restrained totally. He had been assigned his own private bedroom in the guest room, instead of sleeping in the middle of the huge bed as usual with his lovers and his brother surrounding him.

And now John was sitting next to him on the comfy bed, trying to convince him to just let him take his temperature. A little thing that would normally take 5 minutes. John held up the offending thermometer. Rectal thermometers might be more embarrassing but they were much more accurate. John swore by them and refused to have any other kind at home.

"I absolutely refuse." Mycroft said haughtily, well as haughtily as one could while suffering from a nasty cold, giving the thermometer a surly glare.

"There is nothing you can do. You can whine and complain all you want, but let's just skip that. Just turn over and I'll pull those pajama bottoms and those briefs down, take your temp and then..."

"You will not!" Mycroft interjected. "I won't allow it."

"Listen, your majesty, whether you allow it or not, it will happen."

John tried to gently coax Mycroft to turn around but he fought with more stamina than John could expect for someone so sick.

"No, get your hands off me!" John was half expecting Mycroft to add the word "peasant" to the end of that sentence.

"Listen! Either you let me take your temperature right now, or..."

"Or what?" Mycroft interrupted.

"Or I will get Sherlock and Greg in here, and they will turn you around an hold you down.  
Then I'll pull down your bottoms and your underwear and spank your bare bottom until it is so sore that you will be lying on your stomach for the next week!"

Mycroft looked worried, but still rebellious.

" You're bluffing."

"Try me. Now turn around so we can get this over with."

Mycroft remained obstinate. He refused to turn over. John had a feeling that this was going to be a long night.

"No..." 

"Okay Mycroft, sweetheart. I am going to give you ONE more chance because you're sick and miserable."

Mycroft did look miserable. Sick and miserable and lost. His nose was red and sore, his eyes were watery. He looked at John, an odd mixture of rebellion, fear and sadness in his eyes.

John was beginning to hope that Mycroft WOULD act up, because he obviously needed a good, old fashioned spanking. He needed it to steady him even if he was loath to admit it. You cannot be expected to be responsible for the entire country without needing the opposite: being out of control, but in safe hands that will make everything simple. You make an honest mistake-you get forgiven,you willfully misbehave-you get spanked. Add to that the heaps and heaps of cuddles and kisses you get no matter what, and you begin to start to feel more grounded. John had a sneaking suspicion that Mycroft's subconscious was making him act out because it knew what he needed. John's suspicion was confirmed when Mycroft resolutely said:

"I do realize that you have a limited capacity of thought, but I'd think that even your goldfish brain, such as it is, would be capable of understanding a two letter word such as 'no' "

Mycroft looked sorry the moment the words came out of his mouth, but he was in too deep to just give up now. 

"Right. If that's the way you want it. I'll go get Greg and Sherlock."

John didn't wait for a reply, but instead marched into the living room, where Greg and Sherlock were watching football, Sherlock giving a running commentary on how boring he found it, from where he was comfortably seated in Greg's lap. They both looked up at John when he came in.

"So, sorry to interrupt, but his majesty is having a bit of a strop. Well a bit more than a strop, actually and he needs a bit of a taking down.That is, if his temperature is not too high,which I can't find out because he won't let me take it."

Sherlock looked at him, pleadingly.

"But he's sick, John!"

"I know he's sick, but we have been far too soft on him, and he needs to know what happens when he misbehaves. Besides it's only a cold, not the flu. So, assuming he doesn't have too much of a fever, this will happen."

"He will feel much the better for it, you know that, Sherlock."Greg interjected.

Sherlock nodded resolutely, following his two lovers into the bedroom.

"Now I think it's time for this naughty boy to have his temperature taken."Greg said, good-naturedly, trying to defuse the situation.

"Got reinforcement did you?" Mycroft hissed from his position on the bed, still all false bravado despite his most strict lover, Greg ,entering the bedroom. But he was not able to hide the shiver of apprehension when Greg said in his no nonsense voice that even Sherlock knew meant business;

"Now, we can hold you down and John will take your temperature, or you can turn over willingly and John will take your temperature. Those are the options."

Mycroft gave an angry look at them all, but he knew when he was beaten and turned over slowly, face red with anger and embarrassment.

John pulled his pajama bottoms down, quickly followed by his briefs, revealing a smooth, plump, peachy bottom. John spread Mycroft's pale cheeks, the tight, pink arsehole twitching nervously at him. He put lubricant on the thermometer and slowly inserted it into Mycrofts anus. Mycroft whimpered, but stayed still as the thermometer was inserted. He was lying on his stomach, his cheek resting on the soft pillow that his arms was hugging. Greg rubbed his back, reassuringly. Mycroft's face was red as a beet and though he might have liked this scenario in a sexual context, there was no doubt that all he felt now was embarrassment and frustration. 

Just like he swore by rectal thermometers , John also liked the old-fashioned ones that had to stay in for a couple of minutes. He let the thermometer sit for a while, holding it in place for the last 30 seconds, then pulled it out  
and checked it.

"Right, you don't have a fever. Your temperature is slightly elevated, but I think that can be attributed to all that fuss you decided to make over a little thing like this."

Mycroft had started to turn over but was stopped by John putting firm pressure on his back with his hand.

"No, stay in that position. You're getting your spanking right away."

"What? No! I did what you asked! "

"I promised you a spanking, and I do not go back on my promise. Gentlemen, if you would?"

With that Greg grabbed Mycrofts arms and Sherlock grabbed his legs. Mycroft started struggling right away, but even if he hadn't been sick they would have easily restrained him. As it was, the struggling exhausted him quickly and he soon gave up.

John got into a good position on the bed, a position that made it possible to get a good swing and a lot of power in each spank, placed his hand on Mycroft's back to steady him and , without further preamble, started spanking Mycroft with his hand. John dealt a quick succession of hard spanks to the quivering bottom before him, as fast as he could,peppering it with hard, sharp smacks. Mycroft occasionally tested Greg and Sherlock's grip but they had him firmly restrained and he could do nothing except lie there and take his well-deserved punishment.

Mycroft started whimpering . He could go longer without making a sound if the strokes were more even and slow, but John found that the rapid smacks in quick succession made Mycroft unable to process anything but his smarting bum.

John paused for 5 seconds and then gave him another quickfire round of hard, fast spanks before starting to slow down a bit. He was just getting into a steady rhythm, raining spanks down on the rapidly reddening buttocks when Mycroft started struggling harder against the hands holding him down and decided to make use of his lungs.

"Get off me! You.. vile...bas-tards! This is all your fault. None of you care...about me...Least of all you, ..Joh...John. You hate me. Well, then I hate you too!"

Through all the struggling John kept spanking him in a steady rhythm while Sherlock and Greg held him in place to receive punishment, but after those words John stopped abruptly. 

Sherlock and Greg let go and Greg and John exchanged looks. John realized that this was going to be a longer session than he had first thought.

Mycroft just laid there, red bottom on display, shaking with anger and hurt.

"We all love you." Greg said while gently rubbing said red bottom. 

"Of course we do. You're my brother, of course I love you" Sherlock said.

John had a lump in his throat. Of course he loved Mycroft. But deep down, it hurt John to hear Mycroft saying that he hated him. Before they had started this relationship, John had said and done a lot of things to Mycroft and to his beloved brother that were more than enough reason for Mycroft to despise him.

Greg looked at John and then at Mycroft and nodded imperceptibly.

"And to prove that we ALL love you, I think it's time for the nasty paddle." He said.

Both Mycroft and Sherlock paled.

"But..but he's SICK!" Sherlock protested  
.  
"Yes, really don't you think it's a bit harsh?" John couldn't help saying.

"I know and you know,it's for the best. And so do you, sweetheart." Greg said, ruffling Mycroft's hair. Mycroft didn't say anything. 

"Right! I'll go get the paddle. If you two would hold him down, again. He is not in a headspace not to struggle."

At those words Mycroft did make a move to get up but both John and Sherlock without thinking held him down in much the same way that Greg and Sherlock had.

"Don't struggle, brother mine. Greg says you need this and I trust him."

Greg then entered the room, 'nasty paddle' in hand. It was a long thin wooden paddle,with a wooden handle that John knew, from his one foray into being on the reciecing end of punishment, something they had all agreed did no one any good, hurt really REALLY bad.

Greg walked over to the bed, lifted the paddle and brought it down on the already red bottom in front of him. Mycroft started, having not been expecting it so soon. He struggled against the grip holding him down, but he was held firmly in place as the paddle continued the assault on his unprotected bottom.

Mycroft was crying now, tears streaming down his face, as he was spanked harder and harder, not able to move. His upper body was held in place by one pair of strong arms, his legs by another pair. He obviously couldn't think about keeping up appearances, about keeping his dignity anymore. All he could do was scream and cry, breath hitching.

"This is what happens when you refuse to TALK to us about how you're feeling. I know it might not make sense to you, but we're here to help you figure it out." Greg said with firmness, spanking the bare buttocks presented to him with the hard, thin paddle, reddening and bruising the skin. John knew Greg didn't like to be that harsh, but he also knew that Greg knew exactly what Mycroft needed, so there was no doubt in his mind that this spanking was needed and warranted.

"Please stop! PLEASE stop!" Mycroft screamed.

But Greg didn't stop. He brought the paddle down again and again never pausing, just an onslaught of blow after blow in quick succession, to the sweet, little bottom that jiggled with each spank and turned more and more red and bruised.

Mycroft sobbed. Then suddenly the spanking stopped. He took shaky tear-filled breaths until he calmed down. 

It broke all of their hearts that this was necessary but they knew from experience that if Mycroft didn't get his punishment he would blame himself, punish himself and wind up miserable. Just like he had been doing all this time, while he'd been sick, John realized. John, Sherlock and Greg had seen the refusal to punish Mycroft ,while he was sick ,as a way to show their love and care. Mycroft had seen it as not caring. Greg must have caught on , because a good hard paddling was exactly what Mycroft had needed. Even though it was not what he wanted, it was what he NEEDED. And they had all neglected his needs to focus on his wants.

Greg coaxed Mycroft to sit up. He did, wincing as his sore backside made contact with the bed.

"We all love you. I love you. "John said. "We thought we were being kind to you by not punishing you while you were sick, but spankings are part of how we show we care.  
You were feeling neglected."

 

Mycroft's eyes filled with tears and a desperate sob escaped him.

Greg rubbed his back and then gathered him into his arms.

"Let it go,just let it go. It is okay, it's okay sweetheart."

And Mycroft did, sobbing into Greg's arms, all pretence of personal aloofness forgotten. John realized how much he must have been hurting for him to cry this much.

Greg was tender and loving, stroking Mycroft's hair and back, making little cooing noises to relax him, but still gently encouraging him to cry and let all of the pain that he had been holding on to, out. 

When they were first starting this unusual relationship between them all, John had an image in his mind on how he thought Mycroft looked like while crying. He imagined that he would be stoic and dignified, a single tear sliding down his cheek the only sign that he was in distress. But he was the complete opposite. Mycroft cried like a child. Bawling and sobbing and sniffling. Breath hitching, tears streaming down his face. Even though John felt incredibly sad that Mycroft had been so upset for so long without telling them, he knew that a good cry was the best thing for him. Besides, he looked completely adorable when crying and John ached to hold him.

This was one of the reasons why spankings were so vital for Mycroft. It allowed him to let go, to cry and to receive comfort and physical contact, to be open about his feelings, something that he had a tough time doing otherwise. After spankings, depending on the intensity, he would become extremely emotional and clingy for at least a day ,sometimes more, afterwards, needing constant touch and reassuring,crying at the drop of a hat. Then he would start closing up again. They were working on ways that he could become more open and communicative, but spankings were a good shortcut.

After 20 minutes of just sitting on the bed with Mycroft, letting him cry, rocking him back and forth, comforting him until his sobs turned into even breaths, Greg asked;

"Now, are out going to apologize to John?"

Mycroft nodded. John who had been sitting with Sherlock on the bed, watching silently as his oldest and wisest lover comforted 

" I'm am sorry. I didn't mean any the ghastly things I said...I love you. Please believe me. I love all of you..so very much! I am so very sorry, John."

"I think that Mycroft was just feeling miserable and you took the brunt of it because you are responsible for us when we're sick, John. I know you think there is something deeper behind that but my brother was just being a brat. " Sherlock said.

"He was acting out, because he was sad and confused and lonely. And instead of telling us about it like a normal person he decided to bottle it all up."

"Well that's the pot calling the kettle black." Greg said.

And now the tears started again,though much less intensely, but Mycroft was still whimpering and sniffling , lip wobbling, trying to wipe away all the tears that kept coming, with his pajama sleeves. 

John was not the kind of man who could stay angry or offended with that kind of adorableness on display and he pulled Mycroft in for a hug. Mycroft cried into his shirt as Sherlock and Greg joined them in a group hug.

"Please forgive me." Mycroft whispered.

"You've been punished. That means all is forgiven now." Greg said. John and Sherlock both voiced their agreement with that sentiment.

With that final reassurance, Mycroft took a deep breath of pure relief and promptly fell asleep, safe in the arms of the men he loved.


End file.
